Ahh the Memories

Many of my teen memories are solitude. I’m not sure why, but often when I catch a fleeting smell in the air, a season changing, a familiar song, it takes me back to warm evenings, looking up at the stars on my driveway. Perhaps it’s because I spent a lot of my time doing just this. I loved a nice breeze, masses of stars swimming above me, and writing. When I should have been a giggling school girl, I was drinking hot tea and writing poetry. I had one of those moments tonight. Husband on a surprise business outing at the last minute, kids screaming and fighting. Dishes in the sink. Coffee not made for the morning. I noticed a football on the front lawn. I stepped outside, barefoot, in the cold grass to retrieve it. Soft breeze. Silence except for the humming street light. The tiniest faint of moon through the cloud cover. Closing my eyes I smell pine and dirt. I remember her. The girl that was happy to be outside at night, in her own solitude. Glancing down, I notice a chalk drawing on the pavement. It reminds me of the boy, all those years ago, I crushed over. Then I thought how happy that girl would have been for that boy to have drawn with chalk on her driveway. I imagined how she would have sat next to that drawing, under the night sky, drinking her tea. I trace that drawing with my toe, smile, and step inside.

Thankful

Since everyone else is doing it....
Today is November 2nd.    Election day.  I am thankful to live in a democratic nation, where elections have us buzzing and excited and stressed on the edge of our seats.  I am thankful for freedom of speech.  I am thankful to dream big dreams.

Pesky trolls!

So here's a new term I've learned:  blog troll. 
Here is the definition, according to the urban dictionary-
A pathetic and moronic person who maintains a blog with an unhealthy obsessive-compulsive drive, especially angsty goths (sorry to all the likable goths out there). The content of their blogs usually includes events that no sane person would care about. Here's sample of what a blog troll might write on their blog: "today, I ate a sanwich. It bad - it was just ok, mediocre, I guess you could call it. Then I took a nap. 2.(n) -A depraved individual who sits in front of a computer all day and posts flames of an idiotic or pseudo-intellectual nature on public forums and private websites. Many of these people actually become emotional about what is said on the afore-said mediums and feel it is their duty to punish those who disagree with them. They too may pursue this object in an obsessive-compulsive manner.

So why did I feel the need to look this up?  A friend has a little troll tormenting her blog site.  I am a very naive person.  What possible satisfaction would someone get inciting arguments, causing controversy, upsetting authors?  Blogs are a personal forum.  Personal, that's the key word.  This friend is not spreading her thoughts and feelings to the general public.  She has taken the time to share her wild and wonderful family life in a safe, creative way.  We go to her for the stories. 

So what is the answer to eliminate blog trolls?  An elaborate system of security, to measure your sanity before you are allowed to publish?  Individual blocking that challenges the very existence of blogs, and other forms of free speech?
Good news for this story... my friend may have found the solution.  Supportive followers and friends that chase the trolls away.  Reassurance that while these people exist, a strong circle of friends won't let them in.  Perhaps, at times, these trolls will provide an opportunity to challenge our own thoughts, forcing us to be honest with ourselves.  The best way to affirm your beliefs is to walk in someone else's shoes.
I guess the trolls aren't going away.  That's okay.  I think we can handle them.

Bearville

Many of you have asked for the bear story... so here it is.  Right after school ended, we spent 5 wonderful days on the Long Beach peninsula (Thanks Aunt Kathy and Uncle Brian!) near Oysterville.  The far north tip of the peninsula is Ledbetter state park.  Animals are aplenty in this area.  We decided to drive up near the hiking trails.  This story starts out with me yelling out "OH.MY.GOD."  There was a bear cub sitting on the side of the road.
The bear cub took off, and we continued on the drive.  When heading back down this road again, there was the same bear cub, sitting in the same place on the side of the road.  We chalked it up to what a stupid bear.

Let me interject with the excitement level in my children.  None of us, including the adults, had ever seen a bear.  Sure, at the zoo, but never in the natural element.  My children were giddy.  Thrilled. 

The next time we went down this road, we saw a bear cub, but this time it was black.  Then we saw the brown cub again.  Then we saw an older one sitting in a field.  We were pretty bear-struck by this point.

The children begged for one more visit to this area.  Our last visit.  We had barely started down the road when we spotted a FULL SIZE black bear, walking down the white line on the side of the road towards us.  We stopped and watched in amazement while he dumped a garbage can.  Owners came out yelling "No bear," and their dogs went into attack chase mode.  We watched the bear run off to a little turn off area up the road.

Interest peaked, we of course followed up the dirt road.  This part of the story is why I called this our last trip.  This was the full bear experience we lived through, and had no desire to go back. 

We quickly discovered that it was merely a dirt driveway into a camping area...FULL OF BEARS.  Two adult black bears, one adult brown bear, and four bear cubs.  Side note, little bear cubs are so cute!  The little cubs scampered up the tall trees, like a squirrel climbing a fence.  The big black ones stood guard at the base.  The big brown one came sniffing and snorting to check us out.  Of course we decided now was the time to back out.  That's when we noticed a car was blocking us in taking pictures.  We waved our arms and mouthed to move... to no avail.  She decided, instead, to continue snapping pictures.  I could see the headline now:  Tourist catches family of four being eaten alive by bears on film.  Clearly at this point, the only thing to do was...take pictures.

The brown bear backed right up to the bushes on our side...and pooped.  Seriously, pooped.  There's another first for the four of us.  Eventually, the car behind us came to it's senses, and we were able to back out.  The children begged and begged to go back in the following days.  We never went back.  I was unwilling to witness what would top that story.

Another one bites the dust

I moved to Vancouver in 1980. Other than my college years, and a brief span early in my marriage, I have always been here. In elementary school, my best friend moved to Michigan. That was the first time I had to deal with a friend moving away, but it certainly hasn’t been my last. My best girls have covered the world. Literally.

Today was filled with bittersweet emotions as I learned that one of the best of the best is leaving us. It’s a happy story. Traveling husband will get to spend more time with his beautiful wife and wonderful children. This warms my heart, and saddens it as well. Our tight group will be feeling the loss of one. Even sadder, my boy will be losing his best friend. The other half. Our second son. I know we’ll still see this family.  No distance will change our dear love for them. And of course, there’s always face book.

On New Years Eve, I am so thankful that I remembered to tell this brilliantly inspiring woman that I believe she is all things goods. A wonderful person inside and out. And this she continues to prove on a daily basis.

When you welcome loving people into your lives, wonderful things happen. We are so grateful to include this family in ours, no matter where they are.

Update

Just a quick update on my wonderful children.  I don't usually brag about my kids... who wants to hear that.  I figure, however, if you are on this blog, you came to me.  You are my captured audience.  You have to hear me brag. 

The last day of school is always such a melancholy, bittersweet experience.  They have snacks at school, exchange phone numbers, and try not to cry.  Then they head home with the whisper of summer behind them.  Quite a lot for a kid to digest in one day.

Today they sprang through the door with their report cards.  Dominic had already ripped his open on the bus, as he always does.  Ripley, of course, didn't realize it was in her bag.   At our school, getting a "3" means you are good, you are smart, you've done your job.  "4" is gods score.  They do not part with these easily.  My brilliant son received...drum role please... 8 of them!  Couldn't be prouder.  Kindergartners rarely receive a "4."  Ripley got three! 

To top off the day, we joined Dominic's football team for an end of season pizza party.  There he received his trophy.  I asked him if it was a plastic trophy or a blood, sweat, and tears trophy.  He blushed, and mumbled "blood, sweat, and tears."

Congratulations to my beautiful and brilliant children.  I couldn't be prouder.

Class of 2022

Class of 2022? Is this what Ripley is? This week was Ripley’s kindergarten graduation. She was all tickly with excitement about this, shouting out things like, “I did it!” Hmm? I am always so proud of my daughter’s accomplishments. The first time she walked, poured her own juice, rode a scooter. I adore the wonder in her eyes as she embarks upon new adventures, thirsty for success. But this… I’m just not sure about.

The parenting pendulum always swings in opposition to the previous generation. We are always trying to protect and correct mistakes from our past, only to end up with new mistakes, and a child that will inevitably swing their pendulum the other direction again. Our generation, apparently, did not get rewarded for every accomplishment. We long for our children to feel victory, pride, and acceptance. But are we so worried about their self esteem, that we lower the bar of achievement? My son has learned to put his awards into two categories: 1. Mandatory 2. Blood, sweat, and tears. He know that participating in activities often results in gaining a mass distributed certificate or plastic topped trophy. He also knows that some rewards are truly earned. Not always the shiniest or biggest, these accolades you feel in your gut. This distinction, I hope, will allow my children to feel self esteem and acceptance simultaneously. My first graduation, from high school, felt victorious. My second graduation, from college, I wore a t-shirt under my robe and talked to my friends during the ceremony. My third graduation, from grad school, I went to the driving range and drove a go-cart, finishing the night at a sports bar. I didn’t need to go… even though I’d finally achieved the honor sashes. I finally figured out that success is intrinsic. I hope my children don’t burnout from these many graduations and plastic trophies. I hope they strive for greatness…viewed by others and themselves. I hope they soar. Congratulations Ripley, class of 2022